


Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by Arkeiryn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Dubious Consent, Kinky, M/M, Polyjuice Potion, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:42:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkeiryn/pseuds/Arkeiryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 25 years of being together, Harry finds himself roaming the streets of Knockturn Alley, wondering just why Ginny threw him out of their home. It was fortune – or maybe misfortune – that had Scorpius Malfoy walking there that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Author's Note:**

> ... I'm not even sure. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Harry sagged against the wall, his head thrown back against it. He couldn’t believe it, but there was no other reason why he would be wandering around at this late hour. Ginny had thrown him out. _Ginny_ had thrown _him_ out! After all their years of marriage, she had thrown him out, and just for a bit of sleep-talking that he hadn’t even been able to help.

 _She had a point,_ a small part of Harry’s mind said to him.

 _But we’ve been together for twenty-five years! We’ve been married for twenty-three of them!_

 _It must’ve been a shock to hear those words coming from your lips, even in sleep._

 _Just because I was pleading for Malfoy to…_

 _And it wasn’t just sleep-talking either, was it?_

 _There’s nothing wrong with wanking in the shower! Everyone does it!_

 _Even with the insult of implying that she’s not enough for you, you were fantasising about Malfoy!_

 _She didn’t know that! She just assumed…_

 _She heard you groan his name, beg to him, beg_ for _him. Face it, Potter, she knows._

It was about the time that Harry started to wonder why his inner voice was starting to sound like Malfoy when he saw a familiar figure come around the corner. He couldn’t help it; his heart skipped a beat and his breathing quickened. He had no idea why Malfoy had such an effect on him. It wasn’t like he was particularly attractive, not with his receding hairline and pointed features. But Harry had always been obsessed with him, and if he was being true to himself, there had always been something more than mere obsession there. It took James’ drunken stag night and a very clearly remembered evening with another – blond haired – man that he’d never mentioned to Ginny for him to realise that this might be the case.

It was only when he started moving again, heading towards Malfoy in a stumbling walk, that he realised it was the wrong one. It wasn’t Draco who was approaching him now, but his son. Scorpius looked a lot like Malfoy, of course, but he was completely different from his father – or at least, so Al said, and Harry thought he should know, being Scorpius’ boyfriend and all.

“Mr Potter?” Scorpius had seen him now, and had to wonder why he was even there. _Shouldn’t he be at school?_ “Mr Potter,” Scorpius continued, “you look terrible.”

 _Oh, thanks._ Harry suppressed the urge to laugh. He supposed he did look terrible. He’d been wondering around the worst parts of wizarding London for the past few hours, and it was probably saying something about the wizards who frequented those parts that made him think that _Scorpius Malfoy_ was the first friendly face that he had seen so far.

“Are you okay?” Scorpius was standing in front of him now, his hand on his arm, a worried expression on his face, and Harry briefly wondered how he had got so close.

“M’fine,” he insisted.

“You don’t sound it. Do you want me to get Al, or…”

“No, m’fine!”

“No you’re not. Mr Potter, what’s happened?”

Maybe Harry had been drinking, he couldn’t really remember, or maybe the fumes from various shops had affected him somehow, but he found himself slumped against Scorpius’ shoulder, his mouth close to the blond’s ear. “Ginny threw me out.”

Scorpius, to Harry’s chagrin, actually laughed. “What for?”

Harry, feeling prickly about the laugh, told him straight. “I fantasise about your dad.”

That shut Scorpius’ laughter up. “Oh.” He shifted his arms, trying to move Harry off his shoulder. “Mr Potter, I think…”

“Not going to jump _you_.” Harry wrinkled his nose. “You’re no Slytherin Malfoy bastard. You’re not Draco.”

Scorpius laughed again, and there was the disorientating crack of Apparition. Harry blacked out for a few seconds, and when he came to he found himself being laid down on a sofa in what he assumed was Scorpius’ room or something – although why Scorpius had brought him here, instead of taking him back to Hogwarts, or leaving him in Knockturn Alley, he didn’t know.

“I may be a Ravenclaw,” he said as he left the room, “but I am my father’s son.” Harry saw him look over his shoulder and give him a smile that sent shivers down his spine. He was still trying to get his mouth to open, to ask Scorpius what he meant by that, when the door closed and he was plunged into darkness. To his surprise, he was asleep in mere minutes.

xxx

As soon as the door to the room slammed shut, Harry’s eyes snapped open. He was instantly awake, and, more importantly, perfectly sober. Looking around, he realised Scorpius had re-entered the room, and that was what had woken him up.

“Scorpius, I…” There was something wrong with Scorpius, he realised as the blond approached him. He looked taller and broader than he had earlier, and there was something wrong about his hair and the way he walked, and his made Harry frown.

“Scorpius?” he asked, because this person in front of him certainly looked nothing like Scorpius, and more like…

“Shut up, Potter.” _That_ drawl, perfect, everything he had ever wanted to hear, everything he had ever dreamed about, and he was embarrassed to feel his reaction almost immediately. For Merlin’s sake, it was almost like he was back in fifth year – or, as he had always thought of it secretly, the year-that-he-refused-to-remember-all-of-due-to-inappropriate-reactions-to-Draco-Malfoy’s-drawl-and-general-apperance-as-a-member-of-the-Inqusitoral-squad. (His inner Malfoy had always thought that the name was far too long, but there was nothing else that Harry could think of it as, and YTHRTRAODTIRTDMDAGAAAMOTIS was just stupid.)

He realised his thoughts were rambling – most probably in fear and hysteria, he told himself, but there was definitely some excitement there too, and if he was honest with himself, he had no idea which one was the strongest – and that Malfoy had got closer.

“What are you doing?” He cursed his voice for breaking as Malfoy took another step towards him.

“When my son leaves me something in my room, I have to go and see what it is.” Harry saw the smirk in the dim light and his pulse quickened even more. “It’s only polite. Not that you would know anything about manners, sprawling all on top of him like that.”

“It-it was an a-accident.” Merlin, Harry was starting to stammer now. Since when had Malfoy ever had _this_ much of an effect on him?

 _Since he started stalking you in the middle of the night?_

But this couldn’t be Malfoy – Draco, that is. Draco wouldn’t do this to him. Draco was happily married to Astoria, and he was proud of his son.

 _Scorpius. This probably_ is _Scorpius._ To Harry’s shock, that piece of logic did nothing for his libido. His body still thought that it was Draco who was stalking him, standing right in front of him where he lay on the sofa, reaching out his hand and touching his hair, causing Harry to lean into the touch and expose his throat, stroking the delicate skin on his collar bone…

He found himself groaning when Malfoy – whichever one it _really_ was, he didn’t particularly care now, all he cared about was that he _looked_ like Draco, _acted_ like Draco – stroked down across his chest, fingering the shirt buttons. Before he knew what was going on, his shirt was opened and both those hands were on him, those fingers tracing maddening patterns across his bare skin. Harry couldn’t help himself. He arched up into Malfoy’s touch, and didn’t even feel embarrassment at the whimper that escaped his throat. This was just too much.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you, Potter?” Okay, now _this_ was too much. Malfoy’s lips were pressed against his ear and those hands were moving downwards, fiddling with the flies of his trousers. “You’re loving this so much, I can see it in your eyes, I can feel it. I want to make you scream, Potter. I want to make you scream my name so loud, and I want you to forget your own.”

“Please.” Malfoy’s touch was still maddeningly light, and Harry wanted more, just more of _anything_. “Please, Malfoy.”

“What do you want, Potter?” Malfoy purred, and his breath tickled Harry’s ear and Harry whimpered again. _More, more more!_

“Want you in me,” he pleaded at last.

He whined in frustration as Malfoy’s hands slowed to a stop, and his lips moved from his ear. Those inscrutable grey eyes looked down on him, and Harry couldn’t even begin to guess at what was in them. “Please.” He bucked his hips up into Malfoy’s still hands, and the other man took the hint and slipped one of his hands inside Harry’s pants, making him gasp.

“That won’t be necessary.” Harry didn’t really know what Malfoy was saying anymore. There was _that_ hand, and the other, back on his chest and now playing with his nipples, and that whispering drawl back against his ear where it belonged, and they were all bringing him closer and closer to the edge. There was a laugh by his ear, and then a wild kiss, and then hands, more hands, lots of hands roaming – although there only had to be two, the tiny part of his mind that was still being logical thought – and burning with cold on his heated skin, and then… a finger?… pushing up inside of him. It burned too, in a different way, but the burn was worth it when it brushed against something inside him, making him moan.

“What a wanton little slut, you are, Potter. I never would’ve believed it.”

“Malfoy… please…”

“Come, Potter. Come now.”

That whispered command was the last that Harry could take. “Malfoy!”

xxx

Harry hated Polyjuice, even when he wasn’t taking it. Draco materialised into Scorpius right before his eyes, even as he panted, still sticky and sprawled on the sofa. He watched the Ravenclaw move to one side of the room, and gasped when he recognised what Scorpius was removing from the shadows.

“You’ve been recording… everything?” Scorpius turned around and gave him the smile that sent shivers down his spine again – and they weren’t nice shivers, either. Al had always trusted Scorpius, but Harry had never really been sure, and now he was even less sure.

“Al would want me to.” Harry’s eyes widened.

“What?”

Scorpius just shrugged. “He’s a kinky bastard. He’s always thought that you and my dad getting together would be hot.”

“Well, that was one thing about my son that I never needed to know.” Harry shook his head, trying to get the images that Scorpius’ comment had placed there out of there, before he started reacting to them. _Concentrate!_ “But wouldn’t Al be angry that you were…”

“I know Al. I know he would want this.”

Harry scowled. “You do realise that this is decidedly Slytherin behaviour?”

“Who said I wasn’t a Slytherin?”

“But you’re in Ravenclaw…” Confusion flooded Harry’s mind. _What’s he…?_

“And I have you to thank for that. I asked the Sorting Hat to put me somewhere other than Slytherin, and Al too.”

“You mean…”

“We may both be in Ravenclaw’s House, but we’re both Slytherins at heart.” Scorpius smiled. “Why – did you think that we would be able to do anything decent when everyone hates Slytherin the way they do? In Ravenclaw we’re exempt from the anti-Slytherin sentiments in the school. We’ve even been able to help our fellow Slytherins out, being ‘impartial observers’, and intelligent Ravenclaws as well.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. Attitudes to Slytherins in school _had_ altered dramatically since his and Malfoy’s son had got to school – and now the fact that all the changes had originated from Ravenclaw made perfect sense.

 His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of the door opening.

“Let yourself out when you’re ready, I have to give Al his birthday present. You’re a Gryffindor; I don’t need to warn you off stealing anything, do I?”

 _Shit_ , Harry thought, slightly hysterically, as he watched the Slytherin-in-Ravenclaw’s-clothing step out of the room, _it’s Al’s birthday on Thursday._

He shook his head. _More importantly… what the fuck have I done?_


End file.
